


Chance Encounters

by Delightful_I_Am



Series: Drabble and Plot Bunnies [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emissary in Training Stiles Stilinski, First Meetings, M/M, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Tattoo Artist Peter Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 09:59:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14376417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delightful_I_Am/pseuds/Delightful_I_Am
Summary: Peter looked up to find a vaguely humanoid-shaped lump violently shaking themselves off in his reception area. As he watched, one eyebrow raised slightly, the person - at least he assumed it was a person - began hurriedly stripping off more layers than Peter thought it possible for one being to wear throughout the entire course of winter, let alone all at once, to steadily reveal the frost-bitten cheeks of a young man with brown hair, whisky-coloured eyes, and an arguably very attractive face. All of this was, of course, overshadowed by the sheer volume of sound issuing from that perfectly sensuous mouth.





	Chance Encounters

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hey there Steter fandom! What's this? My first real foray into writing Steter? Why yes, it is! I'm as surprised as you are that this isn't Sterek, but hey, I'm not gonna question inspiration! Enjoy!

Peter had just set up his station, and was taking a deep breath, the new paint, and the steel and ink scent of his equipment wrapping around him, when the studio door burst open, bringing with it a swirling stream of cold wind, sleety snow, and noise. Dear god, the noise.

"Erin! For the love of all that is holy, let's get this over with before I run screaming in the other direction!"

Peter looked up to find a vaguely humanoid-shaped lump violently shaking themselves off in his reception area. As he watched, one eyebrow raised slightly, the person - at least he assumed it was a person - began hurriedly stripping off more layers than Peter thought it possible for one being to wear throughout the entire course of winter, let alone all at once, to steadily reveal the frost-bitten cheeks of a young man with brown hair, whisky-coloured eyes, and an arguably very attractive face. All of this was, of course, overshadowed by the sheer volume of sound issuing from that perfectly sensuous mouth.

"I'm not kidding, I wanna be here about as much as I wanna take Scotty to bed and slowly worship his body with my tongue." Peter opened his mouth to respond, but the young man just kept going, "Obviously that is a big ol' hell _no_ I don't wanna do that, so come on Erin, chop cho-"

The guy looked up and actually stopped mid-word when he laid eyes on Peter. They stood, looking at each other, for a heartbeat. Two. Three. And then-

"You're not Erin. Where's Erin? I have an appointment! Erin's supposed to be here!" The young man was now pulling at his hair, obviously distressed. "I need Erin, she's the only one allowed near my delicate delicate skin! I don't let just anybody stab me repeatedly with tiny tiny knives! Seriously, Erin better not have can-"

"Erin sol-" Peter tried to interject.

"-celled on me! I made this appointment  _months_ ago!"

At that, Peter's mind very helpfully supplied him with a memory of the note left behind when he first bought the tattoo parlour, and while he had thought that the letter  _had_ to have been a joke, clearly it hadn't been. The... intriguing young man stood in front of him was testament to that fact. The young man still lamenting the absence of Erin. Loudly.

"Seriously, Erin should be here. We have a standing appointment! Every four months! The first Tuesday of every fourth month!"

Peter really had to stop this now, before the young man worked himself up so much that Peter would have to deal with a very tedious amount of paperwork after the young man inevitably fainted from lack of oxygen, due to the fact that it seemed quite obvious that he wasn't breathing anywhere near enough for a regular human being. Perhaps he should threaten to call the police, or maybe the local mental hospital. Yes, those options sounded about right for the situation. He'd go with one of those. Naturally, what Peter actually ended up saying was less intimidating.

"You must be Stiles."

***

There was a pause as Stiles and Peter stared at each other; the former looking so adorably ruffled that Peter had a hard time suppressing the smirk that threatened to appear. And the  _scent_ that was slowly permeating the room, now that all those layers had been removed, it was unlike anything Peter had ever had the pleasure to smell. In fact, he was fairly certain he'd never felt a pull quite like this one, either. He also couldn't bring himself to care too much. The pause lengthened to a moment just shy of being awkward and Stiles took a deep breath as though to continue his tirade. And Peter... well, Peter wanted to have a little fun.

"I called all of Erin's clients when I took over the shop, and I explained to them that she was unable to honour their appointments." Peter slipped around the edge of his chair and  _prowled_ slowly forward. "At least, I called all the clients that left contact details." Oh, he did enjoy the way Stiles seemed to shrink back as Peter advanced.

"Uh... wu- I. I me- who? Wha-?"

"Now really, young man," Peter clicked his tongue, "I'm afraid I'm all booked up for today."

A lie, of course; Peter didn't have any appointments scheduled until later in the day. In fact, he didn't even have his apprentice, Erica, coming in until that evening. He was free as a bird to do whatever he wanted, which just might possibly have been to get his hands on the enticing young man in front of him. In a purely professional capacity, of course.

"No! Dude, you don't understand!" Stiles looked frantic now, he actually pressed forward into Peter's space. "I  _have_ to have an appointment today! Like, this is literal life and death, man!"

Peter snorted inelegantly. Youths. Everything was always life and death. Although, according to the note Erin left Peter regarding this most...  _interesting_ client of hers, Peter knew that Stiles' regular appointments were actually something Erin took quite seriously, but that didn't mean he had to let on that he knew anything about them.

"I'm sure it may seem like the end of the world if you can't get your girlfriend's name tattooed on your chest, or your bicep, or your _ass,_ " Peter took great pleasure in the red flush that was working its way up Stiles' neck, "but I really can't accommodate you today." He sighed. "You'll have to make another appointment."

Stiles stared at him, mouth opening and closing soundlessly in his rage. The scent of his indignation was sweet in the air, and Peter felt he could almost  _bathe_ in it, as thick as it was. He resisted the urge to close his eyes, lean in, and drag his nose and mouth up Stiles' neck. Only just. He did feel his eyelids grow heavy as he inhaled deeply. He may have been getting slightly out of line.

"Hm." Stiles' entire demeanour shifted with that one little sound. "I'm not really one for tramp stamps." He leaned further into Peter's space, and Peter found himself holding his breath. "And the only _mark_ I'd wear for my boyfriend...well. It wouldn't be a tattoo."

Peter sucked in a breath when Stiles lifted a hand to press against his chest. The slight emphasis Stiles had put on the word mark had Peter's fangs itching in his gums, and the air swelled with the spicy tang of arousal.

"But I really do need to keep this appointment." Stiles dragged his hand down Peter's chest and looked up at him from under his eyelashes. "Is there...  _anything..._ I can do to convince you to open up your schedule?"

"Hmm,"Peter hummed, "I think something can be arranged."

Peter finally gave into the urge to scent the intoxicating young man in front of him. He leaned forward and dragged his nose up Stiles' neck, inhaling deeply and using the cover it provided to let his eyes flare bright where they couldn't be seen. Stiles' rabbit-quick pulse was fluttering under Peter's lips. He could feel Stiles' hand settle low on his stomach; a scorching pressure that very nearly made his knees go weak. Stiles tilted his head, giving Peter more of that delicate throat to work with.

"That's good." Stiles sounded a little breathless. "Is this the part where the big, bad wolf eats me up?"

Peter froze.

A heartbeat.

Another.

The scorching heat of Stiles' hand getting hotter.

And hotter.

Too hot.

Peter pulled back enough to see a wicked glint in Stiles' eyes, and the air sharpened with ozone. That was all the warning he got before he found himself flying backwards across the room, a hole scorched into his shirt, and a rapidly-healing burn on his stomach. He crashed into the front counter, and lay where he landed, not moving, barely breathing.

"Erin might have mentioned that her elusive client was an  _emissary._ " Peter wasn't proud of how strained his voice sounded.

Stiles just looked at him for a moment longer, before smiling a little and moving toward Peter's station, stripping off his shirt as he went. Peter's eyes travelled appreciatively over Stiles torso as it was exposed; the swirling patterns of black ink clearly marking Stiles as an emissary. And a strong one at that.

"Emissary-in-training." Stiles corrected him as he settled on the chair. "Full-fledged Spark, though."

Peter hissed in a breath at that and dragged himself up out of his inelegant sprawl. He stood in the middle of his shop, and contemplated just what he was going to do next.

"And just what is a Spark doing in a place like  _this?"_  

"Well, I could tell you all about it while you tattoo me, if you like." Stiles smirked, laughter dancing in his eyes. "So how about that appointment then?"

Peter pretended to think it over as he sauntered over to the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, listening to Stiles' heartbeat and the way it seemed intent on escaping through his chest with how hard it was beating. If not for that, Peter could almost believe that Stiles was as sure of himself as he was pretending to be. Just as a swirl of anxiety pulsed through the air, Peter flicked the door's lock and spun the sign around to closed. he turned slowly and grinned at Stiles, allowing a flash of fang.

"I do believe my schedule just cleared."

The grin Stiles sent him as he stalked back over to his station sent a thrill through him; Peter really was going to enjoy getting to know the young man who just quite literally burst into his life.

**Author's Note:**

> I've got no idea where this came from, but it really wanted to get written. I've always loved reading Steter fics, but I could never get Peter's voice to work for me. The closest I came was probably [Don't Fuss Over Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8649130/bookmarks) and even that was a friendship. Peter's voice is incredibly hard for me to write - as much as I love him - so to have an entire fic in his perspective is just... mind-blowing! But hey, I'm not gonna complain about a story wanting to be written! It's been far too long since I've posted anything, and I don't know how I feel about this one, but I'm just excited to finally be over my writer's block! I really hoped you enjoyed this <3


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